Order Up
by Winged half-blood
Summary: Percy Jackson grew up in South Queens. Somewhere along the way he started wearing a backwards baseball hat and saggy pants, but managed to turn his life around with the help of a childhood friend and a weird little diner in Brooklyn. RR owns everything.


Percy Jackson was raised in south Queens. He grew up like any other kid, playing with Pokémon cards and setting leaves on fire with a magnifying glass. He was pretty happy, for a kid who lived in south Queens. He didn't have a problem with where he lived. It was all he'd ever known; don't stay out past dark, don't ever wear red clothing, and if somebody without a gun hits you, well, you hit them back harder.

By the time he was seventeen, he was in a gang. It's not like he was a gangster, though. Well, he sort of was, but it never felt like he was really in a gang. He just liked to hang out with his friends, and sometimes his friends spray painted words he wouldn't say in front of his mom onto subway platforms. His mom never knew. He certainly wasn't going to tell her. It wasn't like he was beating people up or robbing corner stores or dumb shit like that. They called themselves the Demigods, had matching tattoos, and they wore their pants too low. Percy thinks the name came from Carlos, who always said that he looked like he was part God.

Before he was eighteen, he smoked and got hammered at least two nights a week.

Things started to get weird. This new guy, Danny, who had an intense tattoo sleeve, showed up to Carlos's shitty apartment all twitchy and it freaked Percy the fuck out. He avoided him for most of the night, listening to some guy from Spanish Harlem talk about how his cousin blew up a car by accident, but then Danny wandered over and started invading his personal space. His breath smelt really heavily of vodka, and he whispered, "Man, you got any snow?"

Percy's vision was already starting to blur just a little bit, but he still knew that he didn't want to be at that party anymore.

His buddy Mark got convicted of raping a girl from the city three months after he turned nineteen. Everybody was quiet for a couple nights and then groaned about not having Marky 'round no more. He was the life of a party, after all.

So, Percy stopped showing up to their hangouts. He trashed his shitty phone and bought an equally shitty one with a different number. He started chewing gum. He got a couple of belts. He cut his hair, and stopped wearing so many baseball hats.

And yet, he was a nineteen year old who had been kicked out of two different high schools and barely managed to get his diploma. He was still living with his mom, who worked two jobs and always mentioned how proud of him she was.

Proud of what?

Percy had a couple of gigs cleaning out his neighbors yards, because they remembered that sweet little boy who'd had Band-Aids wrapped around his arms instead of tattoos.

And then, on his way home from picking up some groceries for his mom, he heard someone call, "Percy? Percy Jackson?"

He turned, his hand slipping towards the switchblade in his pocket, but only faced a scrawny guy with a Rasta-Cap rammed on top of a huge mass of curly brown hair.

"Grover? Dude, what's up?" Percy took his hand out of his pocket and wrapped it around Grover's shoulders in a half hug. "How you doin', bro?"

"I'm good, I'm good. I actually just started up at BC." He grinned and scratched at his wispy goatee.

"No shit." Percy grinned, happy that his awkward childhood friend had found his groove. Brooklyn College wasn't exactly, like, where Albert Einstein's went, but it was better than nothing.

"Yeah, yeah. I've, um-" Grover blushed. "I've actually, uh, I've got a girl."

Percy laughed a little breathlessly. "No shit. Congrats, man."

"Yeah, she's, uh, she's pretty great. Into that environment stuff like I am, so. Anyway, how are you? I heard you were taking a break to help your mom out."

"Yeah," Percy nodded, feeling like a complete dick. "I've been taking what I can get, you know? Mowing a lawn here, painting someone's living room there. It's not much, but what'cha gonna do, right?"

"Mmm. Actually, you know what?" Grover grinned. "I've been working at this diner to pull in some cash for the rent for me and Juniper's—that's my girl—apartment. They're looking for another waiter."

Percy felt a little breathless. "Dude, seriously?" The grocery bag was cutting off circulation in his fingers, so he switched hands. "That's-that's amazing. Where is it? Do I need experience or something?"

"Well," Grover frowned and pulled his hat a bit farther down his forehead. "I'm pretty sure the owner, Chiron, will take you with my shining recommendation." He smiled, and pulled out an iPhone. "Give me your number so I can text you the address 'n stuff."

I coughed, and my face suddenly felt uncomfortably hot. "Actually, you're gonna have to call me. My phone doesn't text."

"Huh? What kind of phone do you have?"

"It's not that it can't- it's just that with, you know, the way things are right now-"

"Oh." Grover cut him off softly. "Hey, man, don't worry about it. Just give me your number and I'll call you tonight."

"Yeah," Percy said, thankful that he hadn't made it a big deal. "Yeah, that'd be cool."

Percy Jackson walked home that night smiling, feeling better than he had in years.

Olympic Diner was sandwiched between a shabby drug store and sketchy looking Laundromat in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. It wasn't the best neighborhood, but it was better than where Percy lived.

To say that he was nervous for his interview would be a massive understatement. Like, what was he even supposed to say at an interview for a spot as a waiter?

He pushed the door, and felt like an idiot when his dyslexic brain caught up with his body and processed that the door said pull. Yeah, it's not like first impressions matter or anything. The door squeaked a bit as he opened it, and a twenty-something guy with blonde hair and very light blue eyes looked up.

"Table for one?"

"Uh, no, actually. I'm Percy Jackson." Percy stuck out his hand. "Grover told me about a job opening you had?"

The blonde guy smiled and shook his hand. "Oh, yeah, Grover said you'd be coming in today. I'm Jason. Chiron's in the back—I'll take you."

Percy smiled and took a deep breath. He absentmindedly pushed his palm against the hair that was sticking up around his forehead, hoping to magically get it into some sort of order before he met Chiron. Jason led him past the swinging double doors and through the kitchen, bumping his fist with a scrawny looking Hispanic guy on the way. It smelt like fries, and Percy was suddenly very aware of the fact that he hadn't eaten yet today.

"He's right through there." Jason smiled and pointed to a door in the back.

Percy nodded and managed to says, "Thanks, man." Without sounding like he was about to pass out.

Percy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ruining whatever order he had halfheartedly pulled it into. He raised his hand to knock, and saw the edge of a tattoo from where he had pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. He tugged them down again, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Did Chiron have a thing against gang-guys? His diner was in Greenpoint, he probably wasn't a stranger to a couple guys with tattoos. Still, he gripped the hem of his sleeve against his palm, impossibly nervous.

Percy steeled his nerves and quickly knocked three times on the door. He heard a faint It's open from the other side, so he cautiously pushed open the door.

Chiron was not what he expected. He was a middle aged white guy in a motorized wheelchair with a scruffy salt and pepper beard. Percy wasn't a racist guy at all, but seeing two white guys in the same diner in the middle of Greenpoint put him on edge. He was pretty much the only white guy where he grew up, besides one or two others, but in all honesty he hadn't really spent a lot of time in Brooklyn. Maybe it was different than Queens.

"Ah, you must be Percy Jackson. Sit down, please." He gestured to a plastic chair that sat across from a shitty looking garage sale desk covered in papers. "Grover's told me all about you."

Percy smiled tentatively and said, "Good things, I hope."

Chiron smiled. "Only the best. Now, before we begin, may I ask what your current situation is, with school and such?"

Percy blushed and said, "Well, I finished high school a year ago, but I haven't really been in a good enough place to, like, go to college or anything."

Chiron nodded and seemed unfazed. "Oh, that's quite alright. Does that mean you would be able to work full time?"

"Yes sir."

"Please, Percy, call me Chiron. Do you have any experience being a waiter?"

Percy swallowed, and wiped his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans. "Uh, no, I haven't. I've been talking to Grover, though, and I think I've got how this place works down, pretty much."

"Well, I've seen your resume, and I'm willing to hire you on Grover's recommendation if you're willing to put in the extra hours here to learn how to work with the team smoothly."

All the air swept out of Percy's lungs. "I-really?"

"Well, you'll have a week long test period, and if things work out until then, you'll have a fulltime job here."

His throat ached and the world got a little blurry. That was it? It couldn't be that easy. Surely there was another option, a better option than him? Percy wished there was something he could say that would convey how grateful he was. There wasn't.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>Percy feels invincible in his uniform. It isn't much, just a black button up, jeans, and his old pair of beat up, knock-off Adidas that have four browning white stripes down the sides. Chiron had wanted him to wear dress shoes, but until a couple paychecks came in this was the best he could do. He always tries to make his hair behave before shift, but it always ends up looking like he rolled out of bed with twenty minutes of running back and forth from the kitchen to his section.<p>

Olympic Diner becomes his second home. He's getting paid a bit below minimum wage, but with all the tips he manages to take in every shift it's more than that. It isn't necessarily fun, because it's work, but he somehow ends up enjoying himself every day. Percy doesn't dread the twenty minute subway ride to Greenpoint and occasional fourteen hour night shifts like he thought he would.

He loves joking around with Leo on his break and trying to throw the burnt fries that get sent back into each other's mouths.

He loves the ongoing rivalry he has with Jason over who makes more tips per shift has him either laughing hysterically or groaning and smacking his head into the nearest wall. He doesn't get punched and ignored for a week when he wins.

He loves how Frank can shoot Sprite into a cup with the soda gun from six feet and four inches away. He loves how Hazel will come in on her day off and sit at the counter for hours, blushing furiously when Frank leans across to kiss her on the cheek. If their Saturday brunch crowd isn't showing up on time, or it's so busy no one will really care, Frank will press his lips against Hazel's until she's as bright as a tomato and shoves a buck into his breast pocket.

He loves laughing until his sides hurt at the scandalized look on Jason's face whenever Piper or Leo snap the dishtowel against his ass.

He loves how Leo will softly murmur Spanish lullabies as he washes dishes at three in the morning when the only people in the diner are a study group that keeps ordering coffee until one of them falls asleep on the table and the slightly creepy old guy who east pancakes with a side of carrots and reads the paper.

He loves trying to make out vocabulary words from Grover's torn notes and pretending it's because his handwriting is so awful in the lull before the small Wednesday lunch rush. He loves that he randomly knows things about environmental science now.

He loves dancing horribly with Piper with one of her ear buds jammed into his ear and one into hers. He loves the way the almost always end up on her Britney Spears playlist and have to keep their sides pressed together so that the headphones don't go flying into the soapy water.

He loves going swimming with Frank and Hazel on Sundays at the Greenpoint YMCA and having exaggerated pool noodle wars until they're asked politely to stop.

He loves how Chiron treats them all like one big family, and how they get a bonus-a small one, but it's still a bonus-for silly holidays like Talk like a Pirate Day. He loves how he'll roll into the diner at the end of the night shift at the beginning of the day and everyone will flank his sides and salute him as he laughs and finally disappears behind his office doors.

He doesn't love cleaning the bathroom, or telling the homeless guy that his hour of free food is up and that he'll have to leave now. He certainly doesn't love the fact that he hates himself so much that he doesn't even roll up his sleeves when it's the middle of July and their air conditioner's busted. He hates that he has to get his sleeves wet when he washes the dishes with Piper because he's so terrified that she'll hate him and stop being his friend as soon as she sees the dark ink that crawls up his arms. He hates that he wears one of those ridiculous sun shirts whenever he goes swimming at the Y, even though it's indoors.

But he loves his new friends, and he loves his boss, and he loves his job.

It's just-it's sort of too good to be true.

And so, it ends.

Percy doesn't know what the hell Carlos is doing in Greenpoint, but he walks into the diner during the Thursday lunch hour with a couple of guys he doesn't recognize. He's wiping down the table a mom and two little boys had just used, so it's covered in crumbs. It's been a long shift, and he's tired, so he doesn't even lift his head when the bell chimes to indicate a customer because Jason will get it.

Jason always gets it.

He doesn't look up when he hears a crude joke, raucous laughter and Jason's calm voice say, "Party of four?"

"Nah, bro, you got any-Hey! Danny, is that PJ?"

Percy looks up and his world shatters. Carlos, Danny, and a couple of guys he doesn't recognize are standing in his diner. Dammit, Percy tried so hard to leave that dumbass life behind, and all Carlos has to do is waltz into Brooklyn with that stupid bandana and ridiculous saggy pants and his new job and friends and life is suddenly in danger of fucking disappearing.

Percy doesn't want to have to face the confused look in Jason's eye. He doesn't want to lie.

"Sir, if you don't lower your voice I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave." Jason's voice is calm, but his posture screams don't listen to me and I'll make you leave.

"Ay, puta, how 'bout you chill and let me talk to PJ over here and find out why he hasn't been to a gang meeting in fuckin' forever."

Jason reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. The white of his hand stands out against the dark tan of Carlos' neck. He's yelling something, and the spit is flying from his mouth, but all Percy can hear is the rush of the ocean slushing around in his head. Jason's hand is keeping him from coming any closer, but all Percy sees is the thin gold chain around his neck. The cross hanging from it is reflecting the overhead light right into his eyes.

"I swear to fucking god, I'll fucking kill you."

Percy probably won't be welcome around most of Queens by this time tomorrow. Sure, Frank and Jason were escorting Carlos and his worryingly silent friends from the diner, but they would be back. Jason with that look in his eyes and Frank, probably sure it had been a misunderstanding. Carlos would be back. Percy didn't doubt for a second he wouldn't hesitate before smashing his head into a wall.

There's a backdoor to an alley in the kitchen, and Percy starts to walk towards it. His fancy new dress shoes click as he walks away from his customers and past the stoves. Leo is cleaning dishes and the rush of the water lets Percy walk past without confrontation.

The subway ride home seems silent. The squeal of the tracks and rush of wind go in one ear and out the other. He takes the ten flights of stairs up to his mom's apartment slowly. His shoes are loud and echo through the stairwell. It takes three tries to get the key into the lock, and Percy has to fight the urge to slam the door closed. The wood chips off the frame when he slams the door, and repairing it costs money they don't have. He's glad he didn't, because a moment later he sees his mom asleep on the couch. The TV is on, and she's still wearing her nice blouse and skirt from her job as a receptionist at some fancy private school in the city. Her stockings have a tear running up the calf. Percy should buy her some new ones. She'd like that.

Except he doesn't have a job now.

Does he? Percy isn't sure. Part of him needs to go back to Chiron and Piper and Leo and Grover and Frank and Jason and Beckendorf and even Hazel who doesn't even work there. Part of him can't go back, not after today.

Percy's never had a real job before. Is he quitting? Is he being asked to never return?

He turns off the TV and walks to his bedroom, suddenly very aware of how tired he is. Percy falls asleep with his face pressed against a Green Lantern pillowcase, trying not cry.

It's dark when his mom wakes him. She's already dressed for the night shift at the candy store in Grand Central. Her hair is streaked lightly with gray, and pulled back into a bun. The blue of her sweater makes her eyes seem a million times brighter, and she's still wearing the dumbass shitty bracelet he made her in fifth grade. She's standing in his doorway, smiling slightly.

"Y'look pretty, ma," he mumbles, trying to shake the drowsiness out of his head. She takes him speaking as an invitation and sits on the edge of his bed. The pleats of her bright red skirt cover the left side of Flash's body, and her palm is warm and soft as it lightly pushes the hair back from his forehead. For once, he feels impossibly safe.

"You shouldn't sleep in your nice shirt," she says softly. "No matter how handsome you look." Her smile makes the corners of her eyes crinkle just the tiniest bit, and Percy doesn't feel so sad anymore.

"You and me, mom," he says, taking her hand and holding on to it. "We'll take out all of Queens."

* * *

><p>Percy's watching some cartoon with animated fish—which is kind of dumb, actually—when the phone rings. He starts to push himself up from the couch, but it stops in the middle of a high pitched and annoying ring. "You got it, mom?" Percy hears her talking on the phone, but she's speaking too softly for him to make out any words with the TV playing. He leans back against the couch and rolls his eyes at a joke he never would've laughed at as a kid<p>

"Sweetie?" Percy looks up. His mom is at the foot of the couch with the phone in her hand. "It's for you."

To say he is surprised would be a massive understatement. People don't call him. People don't even know his goddamn phone number. Still, he mutes the TV and takes the phone from his mom. He presses it cautiously against his cheek. "Hello?"

"Where the fuck are you?" Piper's voice is loud and angry, and Percy jerks the phone away from his ear.

"Uh-"

"Your shift started a fucking hour ago. We're totally swamped, and for some dumbass reason you're the only goddamn son of a bitch who seems to understand the fucking table system except for me and Leo, and we both know what an idiot he is at doing anything but dipping chunks of potato into those god-awful vats of grease!" She sounds out of breath, and there's a lot of noise in the background.

For some reason, all he can say is "You shouldn't curse in front of the customers."

"Oh, don't you dare lecture me, Percy Jackson, because you aren't even fucking here you—" Her sentence cuts off and she suddenly sounds like a contestant for Miss America. "Thank you and have a wonderful day, ma'am."

Percy's glad his mom has left the room, because he's suddenly holding back tears. "Piper, listen, I don't think I'll be coming in anymore-"

"Bullshit."

"What? Piper-"

"No, shut the fuck up, that's bullshit. So you were a damn idiot a few years back—big surprise. Let me tell you something, babe." Piper takes a deep breath, and some of the background noise fades away, "I don't fucking care. The only thing I care about is the fact that the fucking old hag from down the block is in today and there's no nice white boy from Queens to quell her and her constant need for cranberry juice. I know for damn sure the only thing Jason cares about is the fact that you ditched him the middle of his fucking shift, right during lunch hour. And honestly, half of our fucking co-workers are ex-gangies. Jesus Christ, look at Beckendorf! The motherfucker's got more tattoos than Mike Tyson. Did you honestly not know that Jay and Frank were Legionaries? Like, do you even fucking talk to us?

"You're going to get complaints about-"

"Oh, fucking can it about the cursing already, I'm in the fucking alley. Untwist your panties, Mama Jackson, grow some balls, and man the fuck up."

There's a moment of silence, and when she speaks again, her voice is a lot softer and a lot less filled with I want to kill you and your first born child.

"Did you really think that shit would matter to us? We love you because you're you; the you we know now, not some dumbass teenager who thinks he's too cool for a belt. We love you, the Percy Jackson who thinks he's so full of shit he doesn't even stand up for himself when one of his best friends calls him and yells at him. Jesus fucking Christ, all you care about are the fucking customers, and if that doesn't say a shit ton about you then I don't know what does. Honestly. We must be shit friends if you think we'd ditch you that easy, and you're gonna need to man up fast 'cause I've only got about one and a half of these rants in me a year otherwise I run out of shit to say."

Percy's cheeks are wet. "I think you're a pretty awesome friend, Piper."

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know. Get your ass down here and maybe I'll convince Jason not to beat the motherfucking shit out of you next week at our ping pong tournament."

"Like I need him to go easy."

"Ha ha, fat chance."

The other end of the line is silent. Piper's hung up.

Percy wipes his eyes and smiles.

"Hey, mom! I'll be back at eight thirty!"

* * *

><p>Percy's glad nothing really changes. The diner is just as busy, and work is still work. He's never actually had, you know, a job before, much less a job at a diner, but he thinks he's doing a pretty damn good job. He doesn't actually know if he's a waiter or whatever the name is of the person who sees people to their tables or a busboy or whatever, but he waits on some days and does the dishes on others. Percy actually thinks there's some sort of rotation system, but he isn't going to complain and be stuck on dish-duty for all eternity.<p>

Except, saying everything's exactly the same isn't exactly true, either. Percy notices things he didn't see before. Like, the tattoos on Jason and Frank's forearms, with animals and weird lines.

(Honestly, he feels like a bit of an idiot for not seeing it before, because he's seen Frank in swim trunks before and hadn't noticed a tattoo. Percy doesn't know if they were hiding it before, or he just never saw.)

He's changing into his button up before shift one day when Leo walks into the kitchen and yanks off his chef-shirt-thing and Percy catches a glimpse of ink curling around his chest, right above his heart, before it disappears behind a t-shirt. Leo glances over, and Percy's suddenly fascinated with tying his shoes. He stares at his laces and hears his mom saying Make a bunny ear, give it an earring-

"Jealous of my tatt, hermano?" Leo's voice is light and joking, and Percy grins, his fingers abandoning a half-finished knot. He rolls up his shirt sleeve all the way to his elbow.

Percy leans down, finishes tying his shoe (down the bunny hole, pull tight) and turns towards the door to the rest of the diner. He pauses and looks down at the harsh lines of black ink that wrap around his arm, and loses himself momentarily in the waves that swirl around an old scar that he got from sledding on a garbage can lid. When he does look up, Leo's mouth is so wide Percy can see the dangly thing in the back of his throat.

Percy pats Leo's chest, right over his heart, where he saw the tattoo. "I think I'm fine, bro."

He walks into the diner to start his shift, laughing to himself.

"Percy, there you are."

Percy frowns and looks at the clock on the wall. It's four twenty-five. "I'm five minutes early, Piper."

"Come tell Frank that Britney is better than Avril."

There are no customers in the diner, and Piper's sprawled out on the bar, glaring at Frank as he cleans out cups.

"Look," Frank shrugs, poking her in the cheek, "I didn't mean to get you all riled up. Sk8r Boi's my jam and she's a badass Canadian—that sort of wins me over."

"Sorry, bro." Percy says, sitting down at the bar. "I'm a Britney man through and through."

"See?" Piper laughs and throws her fist into the air. "I win!"

Frank shoots Percy a look and continues cleaning the cups from the night shift. "I feel no emotional attachment to this argument."

Piper runs her hand through Percy's hair and says, "You're just jealous that Percy's my shawty."

"What?" Frank laughs. "How did that even relate-"

Percy rolls his eyes and smacks her hand away. "We all know Jacie-Poo's the real romantic interest, Pipes."

She sighs and dramatically throws an arm over her face. "Yeah, well, if you can get him to man the fuck up and ask me out—"

The bell above the door chimes.

"Using G rated language, Piper?" Chiron asks, entering the diner and rolling towards his office.

"Always, Chiron." She mumbles into the inside of her elbow.

Percy, on the other hand, blushes bright red and says, "Sorry, Mr. Brunner."

Chiron doesn't even turn around. "Really, Perseus, you must learn to call me Chiron."

Piper sits up so fast she almost falls off the bar. "What did he just call you?" She asks, hopping down the stool next to his and putting both hands on his cheeks.

Percy sighs and pushes her away. "It's nothing, Piper. Drop it." He tries to get up and walk away, but she grabs him by the shirt sleeve and yanks him back into his seat. She's glaring at him, but a smirk is pulling at the corners of her mouth. She's probably going to say something obnoxious, and god, she is never going to let him forget this—

Beckendorf saves him. He walks out of the bathroom in his street cloths, a little bit breathless. "Hey guys, I know Jason isn't here yet, but I've gotta jet. It's Silena's birthday today."

"Hey, why didn't you tell me that?" Percy complains. "I could've covered your shift—you're gonna be tired all day."

"Chill, Percy. I'll survive." He glances at his watch and winces. "So, bye." He turns and sprints for the door, and Percy laughs. Beckendorf's a great guy, but he's almost always busy. Percy doesn't really see him out of work because he spends most of his time at his dad's mechanic shop or hanging out with his girlfriend Silena, but he's always got something nice or hilarious to say.

Beckendorf's only been gone a couple minutes when Jason walks in the door, looking as frazzled as an attractive, well dressed guy in his twenties can. Percy thinks he sees a bit of his hair sticking up in the back, but then he turns and Percy realizes it was just the light.

Jason is annoyingly perfect. Percy tries to not let it get to him.

(He doesn't really succeed.)

Percy's gotten closer to Piper, and by extension spends more time butting heads with Jason. They have a weird relationship. About 90% of the time they spend together is about trying to prove who's better, but he'd definitely choose Jason to be his buddy in a post-apocalyptic zombie world.

Well, maybe he'd choose Piper.

(He'd totally choose Piper.)

Jason sits down next to Piper and lays his forehead on the table. "There were hipsters on the subway again."

"Haven't you heard?" Frank asks, smiling. "Greenpoint is the new SoHo."

"Oh, God," Piper moans, resting her head on the bar next to Jason's, "We have to push them back."

"To where?" Percy asks, getting up to find his apron. "It's not like there's any more room in the city, and they sure as hell aren't desperate enough to go to Queens yet."

"I don't know, exile them to Staten Island or something, just make them go away."

Percy finds his apron next to the podium by the door and beings to put it on. "What have the hipsters ever done to you?"

Piper suddenly sits up straight and turns around. "Many things, young Mr. Jackson—many things. First off," she holds up a finger, "those atrocious plaid shirts do not only offend me, but they are, in fact, a sin against humanity."

"I like plaid shirts," Frank mumbles.

"Hush, Mr. Maple Syrup; do not talk of things you don't understand. Secondly," She holds up another finger and says, "beanies are meant to cover the entirety of your head, not perch ridiculously on the crown of it, and should not be worn indoors or in the summer."

"That's just fashion." Percy objects.

"Well, fashion is dumb."

Jason laughs and says, "It's not just the fashion, Percy."

Piper nods. "Right, there's also their illogical argument that something 'mainstream' is something that shouldn't be bothered with, where most things are 'mainstream' are popular because people like them, so—logically—a lot of mainstream things should be very good." She takes a deep breath. "Don't even get me started on Starbucks."

"Don't worry," Percy says, sticking a pen behind his ear. "I won't."

His shift is fine, and people start to crowd in once the sun's been up for about a half an hour. The morning rush is on, and Percy stops cracking jokes and starts walking quickly from the kitchen to his tables and back again. The city's in the middle of the heat flash that normally shows up around mid-July and the air conditioner has been off and on for a couple weeks, but everyone keeps on forgetting to ask Leo to fix it. The ceiling fan is blowing at full speed, and the old lady down the block lent them a fan in the shape of a duck—which is honestly really creepy—but it does the job alright.

Percy has his sleeves rolled up to the elbow and puts on extra charm when he asks an elderly Greek lady if she'd like a refill on her coffee. She nods, and he reaches across the table to poor into her mug. He's focused on not spilling onto the table, and doesn't realize that she's even reached out until her hand touches his forearm.

"That's a lovely design." Her voice is quiet and trembles with age. Her finger traces the swooping design of the waves that crawl down his arm and Percy shivers so suddenly that he almost spills coffee everywhere.

"Thank you. I love the ocean, so.." He awkwardly trails off as he finished pouring her coffee.

The woman smiles and adds a copious amount of sugar to her water glass. "You're a good boy."

Percy walks away, confused, but feeling better about himself in a perfect, indescribable way.


End file.
